


Mother Knows Best

by my_thestral



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-01
Updated: 2017-11-01
Packaged: 2019-01-28 03:52:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12597536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/my_thestral/pseuds/my_thestral
Summary: Molly really didn't want to learn the spell. It was as dark as they got and it left her feeling dirty for hours. But her mother insisted that she might need it one day. Would she really?





	Mother Knows Best

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MyFirstistheFourth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyFirstistheFourth/gifts).



> As I was waiting for my other - much delayed - story to be betaed I wanted to give the wonderful [MyFirstistheFourth](http://archiveofourown.org/users/MyFirstistheFourth) a tiny belated birthday present and because I know her to be a devoted mother, I came up with this. It always intrigued me how on earth did Molly, a housewife with next to no duelling experience, manage to defeat Bellatrix, the master duellist, as she really shouldn't be able to - unless... :)

**1968**

»But Mother, honestly – why do I have to?! It's a _dark curse_ , I really don't want to…«

Molly Prewett was looking at her mother defiantly, her lips trembling in impotent rage and despair. She was bone-tired and she positively _hated_ practising this particular hex. Her whole being tingled at the wrongness of it, and her mind seemed to rebel – she must have tried a hundred times, and she still couldn’t get it right.

But her mother, usually a sweet woman, seemed uncommonly adamant when it came to this particular subject. She just sighed, exasperated, and looked her daughter straight in the eye.

“Molly, sweetheart, we’ve talked about this. I know you don’t want to – and if times were different, I wouldn’t want you anywhere _near_ this sort of magic. But your father says that there have been rumours… unusual, sinister happenstances for years now, and they seem to have multiplied in the last few months. You’re of age now – and I know you’re fairly serious about that Weasley boy that we keep “incidentally” bumping to – ” Molly rolled her eyes, but she could help her face stretching into a goofy smile when she thought of Arthur Weasley, his bright blue eyes, and a shy smile he only ever had for her.

“ – so imagine, my dear, you’ll one day have to protect yourself, your family, and everyone you love from the darkest magic imaginable – wouldn’t you like to have this _one thing_ at hand, a secret weapon of sorts no one knew you possessed, nor would they expect you to know how to use it? It’s just this _one spell_ , dear…”

It was the fact that her mother sounded so sad and desperate, that finally made Molly pick up her wand with renewed vigour. After all, mothers were supposed to know best, and Molly only had to imagine someone wanting to hurt her little brothers, Gideon and Fabian… or “her” Arthur… and the fear and anger that shot through her were not that hard to direct through her wand…

“That was _excellent_ , my dear!” Mrs. Prewett exclaimed, clearly excited at the sight of the old tree they were practising on instantly drying up and then collapsing into a thousand branches and million little splinters. “So much improvement today, honestly!”

Molly felt drained. Not only was the magic clearly of the darkest sort, making her feel dirty for hours after the use – the spell was also incredibly complex. It was made up of several slashing movements that, according to her mother, _“made the opponent feel as if they were being sliced”_ , followed by a complicated flick of the wrist, the effect of which was a bit like wringing a towel and _“would possibly break the entire ribcage and every other bone in its way, dear”_ , and completed by a powerful shove that required immense focus and whose effect was supposed to equal _Reducto_ – though Molly wasn’t quite at the point of being able to shatter anything to smithereens yet. And worst of all, it all had to be done entirely non-verbally, _“or they would see it coming, darling – now what would then be the point of it all?”_

“Where did you learn it, Mother?” Molly asked, not so much out of curiosity but rather to get a much-deserved break.

“Your father, darling,” Mrs. Prewett sighed, looking dejected. “In my time, pure-blood witches were protected like the greatest of treasures – no one who knew what was good for them would _dare_ put a finger on a daughter from the pure-blood family or they would risk having the wrath of the entire wizarding community on their heads – but your father tells me the times are changing, and just last week… but never mind that, dear,” Molly’s mother concluded quickly, looking concerned and uncomfortable. “It’s for your own safety, and I would feel sleep a lot better at night knowing that my little girl knew how to keep herself safe.”

“Aren’t you afraid that… I’m going to use it at the wrong occasion? Like, too soon or…” Molly didn’t know how to explain, but ever since she was a child she’s been plagued by those _terrible_ fits of rage that sometimes ambushed her without a warning and felt quite beyond her control, making her feel drained and quite ashamed afterwards.

Like that one time when that dreadful Black girl, Bellatrix, bumped into her Arthur, hanging herself around his neck to stop herself from falling, and then batting her eyelashes, claiming she hadn’t seen him… He was half a foot taller than the rest and had fiery red hair – how could anyone even _miss_ him?! It was clearly an excuse – and a stupid one at that! – but Molly still shivered at the thought of how enraged it had made her to see Arthur with another girl around his neck, if only for a second and by no fault of his own… She could have murdered the gorgeous Black flirt with her haughty demeanour, vitriol smile, and cold eyes that always made Molly feel as if she was awkward and barely pretty enough to be noticed. Molly knew that… _bitch_ hadn’t done it because she cared for Arthur in the least, but rather because she wanted to rattle Molly’s cage… and it was that pure malice that made Molly so terribly livid.

Her rage seemed to have slammed out of her completely uncontrolled as she hadn’t even pointed her wand at the Black girl before Bella’s fancy clothes were suddenly scorching at the edges, making the girl shriek in panic – and Molly snapped to her senses and to the horrible realisation of what she had nearly done… Arthur himself had come to Molly’s rescue in that moment, putting his arms around her shoulders, breaking whatever magic was pouring out of her, and pulling her away from the scene, inquiring quietly if she was all right… and calling her Mollywobbles for the first time. Merlin, the nickname was _stupid_ – and terrible nicknames had always irritated her before – but it was just so… affectionate and endearing, wasn’t it, and he seemed to _care_ so much. So, she might have blinked the tears from her eyes and kissed his cheek in a bout of affection she couldn’t hold back, and it still made her smile remembering how very flabbergasted and in awe he appeared.

But the uncomfortable feeling and a deep sort of fear remained, knowing that there were hidden dark pits inside her hiding… god-knows-what, making her capable of the deeds she would never be able to justify when thinking rationally. What if something _had_ happened that day? What if Arthur hadn’t approached her so bravely? What if… what if she finally had a weapon such as this terrible, vile spell at her disposal, and she would choose to use it wrongly, for a petty cause that didn’t deserve it?

“Oh, I don’t worry at all. You will know,” her mother said simply. “I was lucky enough to have never found myself in the circumstances to require its use… so far. But your father insists that magic such as this one cannot be used without intent; it isn’t something you can perform spontaneously. It requires focus, determination, and willingness to face the consequences – because what you end up with, essentially, is total annihilation. If performed correctly, there isn’t even a body left… but you still have to live with the knowledge that you erased a human being from the existence. Now, if you use it on someone that willingly put you or your loved one in mortal danger,” Mrs. Prewett said quietly, “I don’t think it’s too high a price to pay, don’t you agree?”

Molly nodded with a knot in her throat, and her mother’s face softened.

“Oh, Molly, my dear girl – I know you would never consider using it on someone who didn’t truly deserve it. There’s too much good in you to ever attempt such a thing – and the fact that you don’t seem to be able to get that very last effect of the spell right tells me that you were not meant to destroy, that you don’t really mean to harm anything, let alone anyone. But it would make me feel much better to know that you at least have the knowledge to protect yourself in the worst of circumstances, and perhaps, if such circumstances occur, you will have the proper reason to make the spell work properly…”

“Right,” Molly said weakly, and raised her wand again to overcome the sickness in the pit of her stomach. “I’m ready to give it another go, Mother.”

~

**30 years later**

_“Avada Kedavra!”_

The killing curse landed inches from Ginny, Molly’s only daughter, as Molly stared in disbelief at the crazy, cackling woman in front of her. Long gone was her legendary Black beauty, ruined by the years spent in Azkaban, but the malice and a special kind of bone-deep madness were still very much present in Bellatrix Lestrange, née Black – a Death Eater, devout follower of the Dark Lord, mass murderer and proud destroyer of families.

And the old rage found Molly… the rage she had almost forgotten about in all her years of caring for her family, the rage that shot through her body like Fiendfyre and incinerated all her objections and reservations. The person that tore away from her family, and headed straight for the monster ahead, was not Molly Weasley, the affectionate, caring mother of seven, barely a worthy opponent in the eyes of anyone, but Molly Prewett, a pure-blood with secret knowledge of a lethal dark spell, and the enraged heart that finally saw purpose to it.

“Not my daughter, you _bitch_!”

The disdainful smirk, followed by a mad cackle that met Molly, told her everything she needed to know about the opinion Bellatrix Lestrange held of her. _Good_ , Molly could almost hear her mother’s voice in her head – _now she’s truly at your mercy_. But at the back of her mind a panicked alert was blaring, that she had to be careful, that she shouldn’t try to do her worse too soon or the skilled duellist Bellatrix was, trained in reading her opponent, would suspect something, and then it would all be in vain. So Molly braced for the worst and allowed Bellatrix to deliver the first hex with barely a simple shielding charm in place. Voldemort’s fiercest follower hit her with nothing but a playful shot in view of everything she was capable of, as if she wanted Molly to know that she was ready to play with her like a Kneazle with a petrified mouse.

Still, it was enough to have knocked Molly backwards, giving the monstrous woman an impression she was right in her opinion of Molly’s duelling capabilities – just as it was meant to. But when the vile woman laughed viciously, baring her rotting teeth, Molly’s madly beating heart told her it was now or never. She raised her wand, focusing on nothing but her righteous rage, and _thought_ the words…

The first slashing whip of Molly’s wand was enough to give Bellatrix a clue as to what she was up against, and her eyes grew wide in shock and anger – but it was too late, as she was hit by another… and one more… followed by a powerful flick of the wand that knocked the her backwards and crushed her waist to the size of a fist, making her dark eyes bulge in disbelief. And then Molly thought of her dead son and his grieving twin, she thought of her dead brothers, mercifully dying together, and thought of tortured, crushed Longbottoms that might as well have been dead – and she knew she had not one, but many life-debts to collect. She channelled all her burning fear and her immense fury into her wand and felt the evil black magic roar though her…  and explode.

It was Voldemort’s horrified shriek that finally brought the incredible scene in front of her eyes home. Bellatrix… was no more. There was nothing left of her but the black cinders raining down like the sorry remains of the dark creature she once was.

 _I did it_ , Molly thought incredulous. _I really did it, Mother._

She’d saved her daughter. And she didn’t feel a thing. No regrets, no remorse, no objection of her conscience. And no sense of victory either. Nothing. As if using the dark magic actually cleaned the darkness out of her depths, and now she was empty.

She realised how deeply frightened she had been of the murky shadow that dwelled inside her, but now it was that part of her that came to her rescue, and helped her save what was left of her family. Perhaps this was a reason she felt it all along – just lurking inside of her, waiting for its moment, for the right person to come along so it could erupt. And she knew she had picked the right person. They didn’t come any fouler than Bellatrix Lestrange, and killing her… it didn’t even make her feel dirty. It simply felt like the right thing to do, as if she was restoring to some balance to the Universe. It was the thing she was _meant_ to do. It felt like freedom.

Mother was right. She would not lose any sleep over this.


End file.
